


Grief

by OzQueen



Series: babysitters100 [5]
Category: Baby-Sitters Club - Ann M. Martin
Genre: Angst, Death, F/M, Family, Friendship, Gen, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, Male-Female Friendship, Marriage, Minor Canonical Character(s), Parenthood, babysitters100, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-14
Updated: 2011-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-15 15:44:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/162371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OzQueen/pseuds/OzQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard grieves the loss of his wife and struggles to prove himself a worthy father. Elizabeth grows increasingly aware of the cracks in her marriage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grief

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, God, it's a novel! I'm sorry, guys. This sort of... wouldn't stop. This is the second part (in what is now going to be a FOUR-part series). The previous part is 'Kitchen' and was posted earlier. You can find it by clicking the 'series' link above in all the story info :)  
> You can, however, probably read this one as a one-shot if you choose.
> 
> This is all part of the babysitters100 challenge on livejournal.
> 
> Once again, huge thanks to LJ user isabelquinn for beta'ing.  
> And, quickly, thank you to everyone who encouraged me by commenting on 'Kitchen'! It was the most positive response I've ever received to anything I've ever written, and it blew me away. I hope the next parts will be enjoyed as much. :)

****

**1975**

The sun beats down, sending the heat shimmering off the graves and headstones around the gathered crowd. The earth is pale and hot beneath them. Along the creek beyond the cemetery, cicadas drone endlessly.  
Elizabeth can feel sweat under her arms and between her breasts. In an effort to distract herself from the discomfort and the pressing urge of tears behind her aching eyes, she looks around at the people surrounding the open grave.  
Jack and Linda Arnold, David and Maxine Jones, Paul Stanton and his daughter, Howard Kingbridge and his wife... Dozens of other people Elizabeth doesn’t think she’s even seen before, let alone met or spoken to. Closer to the grave, almost directly opposite Elizabeth, are Bill and Verna Baker. Verna is holding Mary Anne in her arms, and she turns quietly and rests her head on her husband’s shoulder as Alma’s coffin is slowly lowered into the ground.  
Elizabeth edges closer to Patrick and he puts his arm around her. Elizabeth watches the coffin disappear into the ground before she looks at Richard.  
He stands at the foot of the grave, tall and silent, his face ashen. Alone.

  
Patrick wipes his hand across his forehead. He looks wilted in his suit.  
“I’m going to stay for a while,” Elizabeth says. “But you can head home, if you want. It’s hot.”  
Patrick hooks his finger under his collar and tugs. “Stifling. I’d better go and rescue the sitter from our kids, anyway.”  
Elizabeth smiles at him and he kisses her gently.  
“Want me to come back and pick you up?”  
“No, it’s okay. I’ll get a ride with Maxine.” She squeezes his hand and watches him disappear through the crowd of people all fanning themselves in the stifling heat of the church hall.  
Elizabeth escapes out into the yard at the back, seeking fresh air. The grass is yellow and crisp, like straw. The sun has disappeared behind the hall and its shadow has begun to creep out towards the fence. Elizabeth leans her back against the brick and closes her eyes, listening to the chatter and hum of Alma’s friends and family inside the cramped building.  
“Elizabeth.”  
She opens her eyes to find Richard beside her.  
“Hey,” she says in soft surprise. “How are you?” She silently curses herself for asking such a stupid question.  
He gives her a small smile. “I thought you’d gone. I wanted to say thank you.” He leans against the wall beside her and runs his eyes over the bare yard in front of them.  
“You don’t need to thank me,” she says awkwardly.  
She looks up at him. The hair by his temples is dark with sweat and his face looks lined and gray.  
“Today’s an awful day,” she whispers suddenly. “I’m really sorry, Richard.”  
He nods, and keeps his eyes focused somewhere towards the middle of the parched lawn. “Everyone is talking about her in the past tense,” he says after a moment. “I’m not used to it. I don’t want to be used to it.”  
Elizabeth takes his hand quietly, and they stand there together, listening to the polite conversation murmur into the summer air.

  
Darkness has fallen, but the air remains warm and still. Crickets chirp from the parched lawns on Bradford Court.  
Elizabeth leans over Kristy, smoothing the cotton sheet out carefully and watching her daughter’s chest rising and falling peacefully.  
She looks up as the light comes on in Mary Anne’s room, opposite. Elizabeth watches through the gap in the blinds as Verna gently places Mary Anne in her crib. Richard stands in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb. He is still in the suit he wore to the funeral, though the jacket is gone and his tie and sleeves are loose.  
Verna gestures towards Mary Anne and says something gently to Richard.  
He looks towards Mary Anne for a long time before he nods slowly.  
Elizabeth stands there until Verna and Richard disappear from view, and Mary Anne’s room is dark again.

  
“I’m so worried about him,” Elizabeth confesses, staring up towards the ceiling of her bedroom.  
“He’ll make his own way through it,” Patrick says quietly. “Don’t crowd him.”  
Elizabeth rolls onto her side and reaches one hand towards her husband. “He’ll need help.”  
“I mean it, Liz, don’t push it,” Patrick warns, his eyes closed. “Maybe all he wants is a bit of breathing room.”  
She sighs and rolls over again with her back to him. “Not everyone is afraid of being suffocated, Patrick.”

  
“I’ll be late tonight,” Patrick says, draining the rest of his coffee in one swallow. “I’ll call you later.”  
“All right,” Elizabeth murmurs distractedly. She urges another spoon of mushy cereal towards Kristy, who shrieks in protest and points towards the floor, wanting to get down. Patrick presses a hurried kiss against the top of Elizabeth’s head before he leaves, closing the front door swiftly behind him.  
“Just a little bit more,” Elizabeth says, waving the spoon at Kristy.  
“No,” Kristy answers, closing her mouth tightly and turning her head.  
“Oh, all right,” Elizabeth sighs, wiping her hands and lifting Kristy from the high chair. Kristy runs two steps and then drops to her knees, crawling rapidly on through to the living room, where Charlie and Sam are playing.  
Elizabeth starts to clear the table when there is a knock at the door. She sighs, assuming Patrick has forgotten his keys.  
It’s Richard.  
“Hi,” she says in surprise. She stares at him for a moment before she remembers to step back and let him in. She glances around at the breakfast mess.  
“Sorry to bother you,” Richard says apologetically.  
“No, it’s okay.” Elizabeth leads him through to the kitchen, trying to remember if he has ever been there before. Alma used to stop by, before she was so ill, but mostly it is Elizabeth who journeys next door to visit.  
“Do you want some coffee?” she asks nervously.  
“Only if it isn’t any trouble.”  
“No, of course not.” She feels nervous. She concentrates on making coffee, wracking her brain for things to say to him. She’s not sure whether or not she should mention Alma.  
Richard breaks the silence first. “Thank you, again, for coming yesterday,” he says softly. “And for all your help the other morning...”  
Elizabeth nods and sets his coffee down, sitting opposite him. “It’s okay,” she says.  
He turns his coffee cup around in his hands. “I just had to get away for a moment,” he says eventually, giving Elizabeth a small, apologetic smile. “Verna is rather talkative.”  
“Oh,” Elizabeth laughs. “Are they staying long?”  
“No, they leave today.” Richard turns his coffee again and makes no effort to drink it. “They live on a farm, in Iowa,” he adds. “They need to get back.”  
“Sure.” Elizabeth watches him turning his mug around and around.  
“They’re going to take Mary Anne for a little while,” Richard adds softly. His face is pale and he looks horrendously guilty. He swallows. “She looks so much like Alma,” he says. “It hurts.”  
“I know,” Elizabeth says sympathetically. “I’m sure Mary Anne will be fine, Richard. Bill and Verna will take good care of her and you can concentrate on getting back on your feet.”  
He gives a slight nod. “I had months to prepare for this,” he says quietly. “I never wanted to imagine what it would be like without her, and now I’m forced to face it anyway.”  
“This was never going to be easy,” Elizabeth says.  
“Verna and Bill...” Richard clears his throat and looks down at the table. “They won’t stop talking about her. I can’t...” He draws in a shaky breath. “They didn’t see her, at the end. They don’t know what it was like. How thin she became, and the sounds she made when she was in pain...” His voice cracks, and Elizabeth can see tears swimming in his eyes.  
“Oh, Richard,” she whispers, reaching for him. “They don’t mean to upset you. Everyone will deal with it a different way. Talking about Alma obviously makes things easier for them.” She pats his hand gently. “Let them take Mary Anne until you feel strong enough to manage things again.”  
He nods distractedly, staring down at his untouched coffee. “I hate it,” he whispers, as though continuing a sentence he started earlier. “I delay going to bed as long as I can... The nights seem to last forever. I can’t sleep.” He gives a small shudder, his eyes fixed and wide. “I can’t sleep in that bed...”  
Elizabeth tries to imagine what it would be like without Patrick sleeping beside her, and she can’t.  
She sits quietly with Richard as his coffee goes cold.

  
The end of July drags out slowly. August appears with bright sunrises and yellow afternoons. Bradford Court shimmers and wavers in the heat.  
“What are we going to do for Kristy’s first birthday?” Elizabeth asks one morning, setting a plate of toast in front of Charlie.  
Patrick barely glances up from his newspaper. “She won’t remember it. Do we have to do anything at all?”  
“We should make her a cake,” Charlie suggests, looking up at his mother.  
“We can do that,” Elizabeth agrees, ignoring Patrick. She shoots him a dirty look as he reaches for his coffee, and he looks back at her in surprise.  
“If Mrs Spier was still alive, she could make the cake,” Charlie says matter-of-factly. “She makes good cake.”  
“She did make good cake,” Elizabeth agrees.  
Patrick shoots her a dirty look, this time. The Spiers have become a sore subject with him, and Elizabeth can’t understand why.  
“Can I help?” Sam asks hopefully, looking up at his mother.  
“Sure,” Elizabeth agrees. “We’ve still got a little while to go, though. How about we make some invitations first? We can invite Janine and Claudia, and Ricky and Randy.”  
“Cool,” Charlie says happily, munching his toast.

  
Elizabeth is watering the rhododendrons by the fence when Richard pulls into his driveway.  
“Hi,” she calls to him.  
He smiles at her. “Hello, Elizabeth.”  
She decides to get right to the subject. “It’s Kristy’s birthday on Friday,” she says. “We’re having a cake on Saturday. You’re welcome to come.”  
He smiles again and shakes his head. “I’ll be working.”  
“On a Saturday?” Elizabeth asks, shooting him a look of playful disapproving.  
“I’ve missed a lot, lately,” he answers. His smile is gentle, but Elizabeth feels her heart sink as she realises _why_ he’s missed a lot of work.  
“Of course,” she answers. “You’re still welcome, though. John and Rioko are bringing Janine and Claudia, and Maxine will be by with her boys...” She trails off, feeling stupid. Mary Anne is still with Bill and Verna.  
Richard has nobody to bring.

  
Kristy has recently become more aware of the doorbell, and roars with laughter whenever it chimes through the house. Sam and Charlie have both taken to sneaking out the front door and ringing it, just to hear her giggle.  
When the bell chimes for the sixth time on Friday, Elizabeth loses her patience. She flings her dishtowel onto the counter and storms towards the front hall. “Charlie!” she bellows.  
Richard looks through the front window, quite alarmed.  
“Oh,” Elizabeth breathes. She starts to laugh as she opens the door to him. “Sorry. Charlie’s been ringing the bell all day. It’s a new game, or something.”  
Richard smiles and holds up a wrapped gift. “For Kristy.”  
“Oh, Richard!” Elizabeth beams at him. “You didn’t have to do that.” She shows him in, taking the present from him. It looks very much like a wrapped book. Elizabeth immediately decides to read it to her children that night.  
Kristy is still chuckling from the shrill chime of the doorbell as Elizabeth picks her up and carries her into the kitchen. She sits in her high-chair, turning the birthday package in her chubby hands. Elizabeth starts to tear it for her and she quickly catches on.  
“Would you like some coffee?” Elizabeth asks.  
“No, thank you. It’s getting late and I’m sure you’ll be getting dinner ready soon.” Richard gives her a small smile and watches Kristy shred the wrapping paper in her hands. The book falls to the floor and she ignores it, more intent upon crumpling the paper in her hands.  
“How’s Patrick?” Richard asks politely.  
“Fine.” Elizabeth glances irritably to the clock. “Late.” She smiles at Richard. “How are you?”  
He drums his fingers lightly on the table. “As well as can be expected,” he answers after a short moment. He pauses and watches Kristy for a moment. “I got a letter from Verna, yesterday,” he says. “Mary Anne is walking and talking and growing up...” He drums his fingers again and Kristy watches him with sharp interest.  
“It sounds like she’s being taken care of,” Elizabeth answers, not sure what else she can say.  
“Yes,” Richard agrees. He looks relieved and guilty all at once. “Mary Anne seems to be a great comfort to them.” He drums his fingers again and Kristy reaches for his hand.  
“Are you going to bring Mary Anne home for her birthday?” Elizabeth asks curiously, hoping she isn’t being too nosey.  
“I haven’t yet decided,” Richard answers softly, watching Kristy grasping at his hand. He withdraws it slowly and gets to his feet, smiling at Elizabeth. “I hope tomorrow goes well,” he says.  
“You’re still welcome to come, you know,” Elizabeth says desperately. She thinks a bit of social interaction would do Richard the world of good.  
“Happy birthday, Kristy,” he says, running his hand gently over the top of Kristy’s head. She ignores him and turns back to the shreds of wrapping paper on the tray of her high chair.  
“Thanks for the gift, Richard,” Elizabeth says, following him to the front door. “I’ll read it to her and the boys tonight.”  
He smiles, and looks rather sad. “I’m glad,” he says. He pauses for a moment, his hand on the doorknob. “I hope Verna is reading to Mary Anne,” he says.  
Elizabeth stands at the door and watches him cross the yard to his own empty house.

  
“ _Stop it_ ,” Elizabeth pleads, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes as she tries to finish clearing the breakfast dishes.  
Patrick grabs her waist and forces his voice even higher, matching the radio word-for-word. “Oh my love, you’re so good, treating me so cruel...”  
She laughs and shoves him, but he grips onto her and grins, curling his arm around her waist and twirling her. “...Like a dumbstruck fool, with all your jive talkin’, you’re telling me lies, yeah...”  
“It’s worrying that you know _all the words_ ,” she taunts, burying her face in his shoulder and giggling.  
That stops him. He grins and shrugs, reaching across the counter to switch the radio off. “It’s on all the damn time.”  
“Sure it is,” she breathes, still wiping tears from her eyes. “I didn’t know your voice could get that high.”  
“Glad I can still surprise you, occasionally,” he says, grinning at her.  
She laughs again and takes a moment to stand still against him, her face buried against his shoulder. “Which one of us is going to finish the breakfast dishes?” she asks after a moment. She pulls away slightly and smiles at him.  
“You?” he asks hopefully, giving her another grin.  
“Then _you_ can go and clean the bathroom,” she says.  
He groans. “I’ll finish the dishes.”  
She kisses him and hands him the dishtowel. “I want to do the floors too, so can you lift the chairs onto the table for me?”  
“I don’t think Kristy will care about clean floors at her birthday party,” Patrick says.  
“I will,” Elizabeth answers, patting his cheek gently. She disappears upstairs and grins as she hears Patrick flick the radio back on.

  
Elizabeth isn’t sure why, but she can’t sit and chat with Rioko like she could with Alma.  
She likes the Kishi family, and she gets on well with them, but the conversation feels awkward and stilted.  
“Janine’s growing fast,” Elizabeth offers, watching Janine give Sam an admonishing look as he holds a baseball towards her.  
“Very fast,” Rioko says proudly. “She’s reading at a very advanced level.”  
“Wow,” Elizabeth says. She clears her throat quietly and glances around. Mimi gives her a kind smile.  
“Your home is looking lovely,” she says.  
Elizabeth reddens. “Thank you. To tell the truth, there are still boxes in the basement. I’m not sure they’ll ever be unpacked.”  
Rioko laughs quietly. “It took us almost a year.”  
“There are boxes in the attic,” Mimi adds. “Things from Japan.”  
“I keep asking Patrick to go down and look at it all,” Elizabeth says. “Most of it is his. Richard says his basement floods every winter. I’m not sure if ours will be the same, but I don’t want any of our things to get wet...” She trails off, noting the look on Rioko’s face.  
“How _is_ Richard?” she asks in a hushed voice. “You seem close to him.”  
Elizabeth tries to read any sarcasm or accusation in Rioko’s comment, but there isn’t any. It’s simply a statement, and Elizabeth supposes it’s true.  
“He’s dealing with things as best he can,” she says. “I invited him today, but he said he needed to go to the office in Stamford.”  
“Oh,” Rioko sighs. She shakes her head. “He will throw himself into work and burn himself out.”  
“I don’t think so,” Elizabeth says, surreptitiously crossing her fingers in a hopeful manner. “I think he’s just trying to catch up. He missed a lot of work while Alma was ill.”  
“Yes,” Rioko agrees, but she doesn’t seem entirely convinced by Elizabeth’s comment.  
Luckily, Charlie provides a sudden and welcome distraction.  
“Hey, Mom!” he calls across the yard. “When can we have cake?”

  
The sun is setting and shadows are stretching long and grey across the street. Elizabeth is tidying the kitchen of cake-smeared paper plates and half-empty cups of lemonade. She can hear Patrick’s voice upstairs, ordering Charlie to go and get into the bath.  
Elizabeth takes the trash out. Her feet are bare and it still smells like summer outside, though the evenings are cooler and shorter now. She’s replacing the lid on the trash can as she hears Richard pull into his driveway.  
She walks around the side of the house to greet him over the fence. “Hi,” she says.  
“Hello, Elizabeth.” He smiles at her, but he looks tired. “How was the party?”  
“Fine,” she answers, shrugging slightly. “The kids had fun.”  
“Oh,” he says. “Good.”  
She watches him for a moment and feels despair and sorrow. “Richard...”  
He looks back at her with mild apprehension.  
She sighs and shakes her head, giving him a small smile. “Alma told me to look after you,” she says after a moment. “You will tell me if something’s wrong, won’t you? If you need someone to talk to...”  
He clears his throat and glances towards the house as though longing for a getaway. “Yes,” he says. He looks back at her and he seems pale and worn. “Thank you.”  
She looks back towards her own house. “I’d better get inside,” she says. “Patrick’s trying to get the kids bathed and put to bed. I’d better go and help.”  
Richard smiles. “Goodnight, then.”  
She rocks on her heels for a moment. “Don’t work yourself too hard, will you?” she asks. She can hear the tone of pleading in her voice. “Nobody expects you to feel normal, after what’s happened. It’s okay to grieve.”  
She slips her hands into the pockets of her jeans and waits awkwardly, hoping she hasn’t crossed a line.  
Richard doesn’t answer her. He looks down at the handle of his briefcase before he gives a short nod and draws a deep breath. “Goodnight,” he says again.  
Her heart sinks and for a moment she wants to apologise and tell him she won’t try to meddle. She’s prepared to take a step back and give him more breathing room, as Patrick suggested, when Richard meets her eyes again and says something which makes her smile.  
“Thank you, Edie.”

  
“What were you and Richard talking about?”  
Elizabeth props herself up on her elbows, looking over to Patrick’s side of the bed. “Nothing, really. The birthday party. Why?”  
Patrick shrugs, but keeps his eyes closed, as though he is too near to sleep to open them again. “I don’t know why you like him so much.”  
“I don’t know why you _don’t_ like him,” she says irritably. “He didn’t show up today, anyway. You didn’t have to suffer your way through any awkward conversations.”  
“I just don’t understand him like you do,” Patrick answers, sounding a little gruff. He keeps his eyes firmly closed.  
“What’s to understand?” Elizabeth asks rather sharply. “He’s lonely, Patrick. He’s had his heart broken. He’s _grieving_. Just because you have the sensitivity of a cabbage –”  
“Stop it,” Patrick says, raising his voice to her and speaking angrily. He opens his eyes and even in the dim light of the bedroom she can see how angry he is. “I don’t care if you’re on a rescue mission, Elizabeth, but I don't want to hear about how I should be joining in.”  
Elizabeth bristles as he calls her by her full name. He’s rarely done so, in the past, and the sound of it coming from him is cold and unwelcome. “Fine,” she snaps. “I won’t mention him again.” She rolls over and keeps her back to him.  
After a moment, Patrick’s fingers brush her back. “Don’t be mad,” he says tiredly.  
“Are you _jealous_ or something?” she asks, refusing to turn and face him.  
“Of course not,” he mumbles. His fingers graze over her back again. “I’m just tired, okay? All those kids hyped up on birthday cake...”  
She cracks a smile at this, but doesn’t turn to let him see it. “I’m tired too,” she answers. “I don’t like you snapping at me and accusing me of things just because _you’ve_ had to chase Charlie and Sam around all day.”  
“I’m _sorry_ ,” he says. He still sounds irritable, but Elizabeth figures it’s the best apology she’s going to get. Patrick rarely apologises.  
She sighs and rolls over. “Me too.”  
“Can we just not talk about Richard Spier anymore?” He looks at her hopefully. “I don’t like him.”  
“Well, I do,” Elizabeth answers defensively. “And if he wants to come by for coffee or to talk about Mary Anne, then I’m going to let him.”  
“Yeah,” Patrick scoffs, running his hand up Elizabeth’s arm. “Mary Anne. Poor kid. What sort of father ships his child off –?”  
Elizabeth gives him such a dark look he breaks off immediately.  
“Sorry,” he says again.  
She rolls over again, and this time she keeps her back to him.

  
Sometimes Elizabeth wonders if she stays so close to Richard just to spite Patrick.  
She’s sure that some of her visits to Richard’s house would never have happened if Patrick kept his disapproving comments to himself.  
Richard always seems glad of her company. When she visits him on Mary Anne’s birthday, he shows her a photograph Bill and Verna have included with their latest letter. Mary Anne is seated on Bill’s shoulders, her face photographed in mid-laugh. Elizabeth smiles and hands the photograph back to Richard. He tucks it back into the envelope and runs his fingers along its edges. She doesn’t ask him why he hasn’t visited his daughter.  
She notices that all the photos of Alma have disappeared. She doesn’t question that either, but she looks at the square of wallpaper above the mantelpiece and aches a little as she realises Richard can’t even bear to look at his own wedding photos anymore.

  
November arrives with low cloud and clear, cool air. Elizabeth leaves Patrick in charge of the kids and crosses the lawn to Richard’s front door.  
“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” she asks, watching him make coffee.  
He looks at her in alarm. “Thanksgiving?”  
“It’s less than four weeks away,” Elizabeth says. “You’re welcome to join us.”  
“I wouldn’t want to impose,” Richard says, shaking his head. He sets a cup of coffee in front of Elizabeth. He sits opposite her, looking a little dazed. “Four weeks?”  
“It’s the first of November, today,” Elizabeth reminds him gently.  
Richard rubs his jaw. “I hadn’t realised how quickly time is passing,” he says after a moment.  
Elizabeth sees him glance towards the clock above the mantel, and wonders if it’s simply because time is on his mind or because he and Alma used to smile from a frame hanging there.  
“Thanksgiving,” he says heavily.  
“Patrick and I want you to know you’re welcome to join us,” Elizabeth says, talking so fast she almost trips over her words. “We’re just having dinner at home, and my mom’s coming from Danbury...”  
Richard smiles. “That’s very kind of you, Elizabeth.” He clears his throat softly. “Actually,” he says after a moment, “I’ve been thinking about bringing Mary Anne home.”  
The subject of Thanksgiving is immediately cast from Elizabeth’s mind. “Oh!” she says softly. “Oh, I’m so glad, Richard.” She smiles at him.  
“It would be nice to have her here for Thanksgiving,” Richard says. He frowns slightly, looking rather apprehensive.  
Elizabeth rushes to keep his nervousness at bay. “You’d _both_ be welcome for Thanksgiving,” she says. “You and your daughter.”  
Richard’s smile warms and he looks up at her. “Thank you,” he says. “I suppose it depends on Bill and Verna. I don’t know what their plans for Thanksgiving are...” He pales, suddenly. “I’m not sure if I have enough strength to entertain them myself.”  
Elizabeth laughs, and he smiles sheepishly.  
“I’m a little afraid of bringing it up,” he admits after a moment. “Mary Anne coming home to me, I mean.”  
“She’s your daughter,” Elizabeth says gently. “I’m sure they understand that she can’t stay with them forever.”  
He nods, but he still seems apprehensive. Elizabeth hopes he won’t let his fear stop him.  
“You’ll let me know, won’t you?” she asks. “If she’s coming home?”  
“Of course I will,” he assures her. He looks worried. “I’m just not sure how to broach the subject. Verna’s letters have never mentioned the possibility of Mary Anne coming home.”  
“Maybe she’s worried you’re not ready,” Elizabeth says. “But you are now, aren’t you?”  
He fidgets for a moment. “I believe so,” he says. He glances to the mantel again, and this time Elizabeth knows for sure he’s looking for Alma’s smile.  
“I think you’re ready,” she says. “I think the two of you need to be together again.”  
He looks relieved at this, somehow, and he nods. “Yes,” he says. “I think so, too.”

  
Kristy sneezes potato and snot across the table.  
“Gross!” Charlie shrieks, and then he laughs hysterically. Kristy laughs back at him and jabs her fingers back into her food.  
“Oh, God.” Elizabeth runs forward with a handful of tissues and attempts to wipe Kristy’s face. “Patrick!”  
“He’s upstairs,” Charlie says, sucking a green bean into his mouth.  
Elizabeth sighs and scrubs at Kristy’s face gently. Kristy protests loudly and squirms around in her highchair, still reaching for handfuls of her congealing food. In the living room, Sam coughs pathetically on the couch.  
“Mom...” he calls.  
“In a minute, Sam.” Elizabeth glances to the top of the stairs, silently pleading for her husband to make an appearance. He retired upstairs with a headache an hour ago, leaving Elizabeth with their flu-ridden children and a large headache of her own.  
“Patrick!” she shouts upstairs, her patience with him thinning rapidly. She crosses into the living room and lays a hand gently across Sam’s warm forehead. “How are you feeling, honey?”  
“Can I watch cartoons?” Sam asks pathetically. He widens his eyes slightly. Elizabeth can’t help but smile as he uses every trick he knows to get her to feel even sorrier for him.  
She surfs through the channels and manages to find a Tom and Jerry cartoon. Sam burrows into his pillow and watches intently.  
Elizabeth tidies up empty juice glasses and tissues and stuffed animals, listening to Charlie cough and splutter as he finishes his lunch. Kristy starts wailing angrily and tries to climb out of her high chair.  
Charlie lifts her down carefully and leads her into the living room to watch cartoons with Sam, sniffing loudly.  
“ _Tissues_ , Charlie,” Elizabeth calls back to him. She clears the table and heads upstairs, feeling angrier and more miserable by the minute.  
Patrick is stretched out on their bed, reading.  
Elizabeth is too tired and stressed to scale her anger back. “Didn’t you hear me calling for you?” she snaps.  
“I have a headache,” Patrick answers immediately, frowning at her.  
“So do I,” she snarls back at him. She heads for the bathroom and rattles around in the cupboard for aspirin.  
“There’s no aspirin,” Patrick calls suddenly. “One of us will have to go to the store for more.”  
Elizabeth gives him a fierce glare as she crosses back through their bedroom.  
He gives a slight shrug, as though not knowing what the problem is.  
She slams the bedroom door behind her.

  
Elizabeth drops aspirin, throat lozenges, tissues and mentholated salve onto the counter.  
The girl at the register gives her a sympathetic smile, but Elizabeth is too tired and worn to smile back.  
Soft rain is mizzling from the sky, which is low and grey. The trees in Main Street are mostly bare – just one or two leaves, shrivelled and small, cling vainly to the branches.  
Elizabeth runs into Richard outside the bank. “Oh, stay away,” she says, giving him a small smile. “I’m full of the flu.”  
“Oh, dear.” Richard gives her a kindly smile, but looks pale himself.  
“You’re not in for it as well, are you?” Elizabeth asks, noting his grey pallor.  
“No, I don’t think so.” Richard puts his hands in his pockets and steps a little closer to the bank, sheltering against the wall from the misty rain. “Verna and I have had a disagreement.”  
Elizabeth looks at him in dismay. “About Mary Anne?”  
“Yes.” Richard glances out into the street. He appears lost in thought for a moment. “Verna thinks it would be best for Mary Anne to stay in Iowa.”  
“That’s ridiculous,” Elizabeth says at once, her voice sharp.  
Richard looks at her in surprise.  
“Well, it is,” Elizabeth says defensively, cursing her big mouth. “Mary Anne belongs with you.”  
Richard looks tired. He keeps his eyes on the rain falling into the street. “I don’t know,” he says softly. “Some days I hardly feel as though I can take care of myself. Maybe Verna’s right.”  
“No she isn’t,” Elizabeth says furiously. She’s vaguely aware that some of her earlier anger towards Patrick is now being diverted towards Verna, but she’s too irritated to try and stop it or make sense of it. “You needed space and time after Alma died, Richard. That’s all. That’s understandable. This wasn’t meant to be a permanent situation, and you shouldn’t let Bill and Verna manipulate it like this. I’m sure Mary Anne’s been a comfort to them, but it’s time for them to realise she belongs here with you.” She bites her lip, breathing heavily and wondering if she’s stepped over the line.  
Richard doesn’t appear to be annoyed or upset by her outburst. Elizabeth waits for him to say something, but he’s turned inwards again. A slight frown creases his brow as he thinks.  
“I can be a bit abrupt sometimes,” Elizabeth says eventually, giving him a small grin. “A bit bossy and a bit big-mouthed.”  
Richard smiles and shakes his head. “No,” he says, “You’re just what I need.”

  
Elizabeth sleeps in Sam’s bed. She tells the boys it’s because they’re sick and she’s there to look after them, but the truth is she’s still too angry with Patrick to sleep beside him. Their argument has been amplified by fevers and headaches.  
Sam snuggles into her, his head beneath her chin and his breath warm against her throat. He snores softly, breathing through his mouth.  
Elizabeth strokes his hair and thinks about how much love and comfort she draws from her children daily.  
Suddenly, she doesn’t regret her earlier outburst at all. She hopes Richard can bring Mary Anne home.

  
“It’s Alma’s birthday today.”  
Elizabeth looks back over her shoulder at Richard, who is sitting at her kitchen table. She had assumed something was wrong as soon as he’d arrived, but it’s taken him several long minutes to come out with it.  
“She’d be twenty five,” he adds.  
Elizabeth doesn’t know what to say. She abandons the effort of making coffee and sits beside Richard at the table.  
The house is quiet. Charlie and Sam are out with Ricky and Randy Jones, and Kristy is asleep upstairs. Elizabeth can hear Richard’s breath.  
“It isn’t fair,” he says after a moment.  
“No,” Elizabeth agrees quietly. She sits with her hands folded in her lap, watching him. She thinks back to all the times she sat with Alma, and how comfortably the two of them clicked, and she feels a lump in her throat as she realises what she and Richard have both lost.  
She tries not to, but everything suddenly seems overwhelming, and she starts to cry. She presses her face into Richard’s shoulder and he pushes his chair back so he can put his arms around her. He rests his cheek against the top of her head and she clings tightly to him and feels the way his breathing changes as his grief surges again.  
They sit there for a long time.

  
Richard declines Elizabeth’s repeated invitations to Thanksgiving dinner.  
She doesn’t push the issue any further, but as she and her family sit down to turkey and homemade pumpkin pie, she can’t help but think of Richard and worry about him.  
“Hey, Nannie,” Charlie says excitedly across the table, “Guess how many sleeps until Santa comes?”  
“Too many to get excited about yet,” Elizabeth’s mother says with a wink. “Eat your vegetables.”  
Charlie grins at her and scoops up a forkful of mashed potato.  
Elizabeth’s heart sinks even further as she realises how quickly Christmas will be upon them. She silently crosses her fingers beneath the table and hopes Richard has Mary Anne back by then.

  
Elizabeth visits Richard two days before Christmas.  
“Cold, huh?” she asks, unwinding her scarf. The wind has turned her cheeks pink and her eyes bright. “Did you speak to Verna?”  
“I did.” Richard smiles at her, but Elizabeth knows things haven’t gone well.  
She sits at the kitchen table while he makes coffee. “No Mary Anne for Christmas?” she asks tentatively. She’s already figured that’s the reality. Christmas is too close and progress with Bill and Verna has not been forthcoming.  
Richard sits opposite her and hands her a cup of coffee. “Yes and no,” he says after a moment. “I’m flying to Iowa tomorrow.”  
“You are?” Elizabeth asks in delight. “Oh, I’m so glad! I was so worried about you being on your own for Christmas.”  
He smiles and gives a slight shrug. “Flying on Christmas Eve. Not how I’d like to spend it, exactly. But I think I need to talk to Bill and Verna face-to-face.”  
“There doesn’t seem to be much progress being made on the telephone or through letters,” Elizabeth agrees. “I can’t believe they’re being so difficult about it.”  
Richard clears his throat softly and nods. “They don’t think I’ll be able to give Mary Anne enough attention.” He looks worried, and Elizabeth jumps to defend him. It’s almost an automatic reaction.  
Fierce protection.  
“Nobody is going to love her as much as you do,” she says.  
“I gave her away,” Richard interrupts desperately. “I _sent_ her away.”  
Elizabeth looks at him sympathetically. “It wasn’t like that, Richard. Everyone has dealt with Alma’s death in different ways.” She notes the way he swallows at the mention of Alma’s name, but she presses on. “You needed time to grieve, and think, and deal with things. Bill and Verna needed to keep Mary Anne close and see the similarities between her and their daughter. But it’s time they let you and Mary Anne move on with things.”  
Richard drums his fingers gently on the table. “I suppose so,” he says heavily.  
“What’s wrong?” Elizabeth asks in alarm.  
He looks somewhat guilty, and a little embarrassed. “The thought of moving on scares me a little,” he admits. “I don’t want to leave her behind.” He clears his throat softly and clarifies, “Alma, I mean.”  
“I know,” Elizabeth says gently.  
“I’m still finding things she left for me,” he says softly, keeping his eyes down and away from Elizabeth’s watchful gaze. “There are little notes written in the margins of her recipe book. One of her scarves was hidden away in the back of my sock drawer...” He clears his throat again, harder this time, and his voice sounds weak and cracked when he continues. “It makes me wonder if she was afraid I would forget her.”  
“Oh, don’t be silly,” Elizabeth says kindly. She smiles at him. “She knew this would be hard for you, but she knew you’d get through it.”  
“I don’t know,” Richard says huskily. “It doesn’t feel like I am. It feels like I’m making endless mistakes.”  
“Richard,” Elizabeth says patiently, “sending Mary Anne to Verna and Bill’s was not a mistake. You needed time. You needed space. And now you’re going to go and get her back.” She smiles at him. “It’ll be okay.”

  
Richard returns to Stoneybrook three days after Christmas, in a bad mood. He seems relieved when Elizabeth shows up on his doorstep.  
“Maxine’s watching the kids,” Elizabeth says. “I wanted to see how things got on.”  
“They’re being impossible,” Richard says tightly, slamming the lid on the coffee canister a little too loudly. “They refuse to give her back. They say it’s better for everyone if Mary Anne stays with them.”  
“That’s bullshit,” Elizabeth says, joining in with his anger.  
“Yes,” Richard answers.  
Elizabeth watches the way he moves about the kitchen, his shoulders tense and his brow furrowed. He shifts spoons and mugs restlessly, pacing up and down.  
“I told them I’d fight for her,” he says. He presses his mouth into a thin line and shakes his head, pacing again, not looking at Elizabeth. “I’ll get papers drawn up. If they want to embark upon a custody battle...” He trails off as the coffee machine starts spilling hot coffee into the pot.  
“They can’t fight you for custody, can they?” Elizabeth asks in alarm.  
“I believe they intend to,” Richard answers angrily. He rubs his hand over his jaw and turns back to the coffee machine. “I don’t think they expect me to fight for her.”  
Elizabeth feels that strange surge of protection swell up inside her again. “Well then, they underestimated you,” she says, lifting her chin. “What will happen now?”  
“If they really want to do this, they’ll need to seek professional counsel,” Richard says. “Though I believe the advice they’ll be given is to hand Mary Anne back to me.” He sighs suddenly, and shakes his head. “I hope it doesn’t come to such an argument,” he says. “I don’t want to be on bad terms with Bill and Verna.”  
Elizabeth thinks Bill and Verna are asking for it, but she keeps her mouth shut.

  
Rain falls heavily outside. Elizabeth and Patrick curl in bed and listen to the water pour from the broken spouting by their window.  
“You were going to fix that,” Elizabeth says sleepily.  
“Mm,” Patrick answers noncommittally. He rolls over and reaches his hand towards her, tracing the shape of her body through the blankets. “Any New Year’s resolutions, Liz?”  
She smiles in the dark and rolls onto her side to face him. “Lose weight,” she says.  
“Don't be ridiculous,” he murmurs.  
She smiles again. “Force my husband to fix the broken spouting.”  
“I don’t think you can count that as a resolution.”  
She laughs. “Can so.”  
He growls and rolls towards her, his mouth finding the curve between her shoulder and her neck. His feet feel cold against hers and she shivers and wraps her arms and legs tightly around him.  
“One more,” she whispers.  
“Mm?”  
“Less arguing.” She gazes up at him, suddenly shy about voicing something that seems to be becoming more and more prominent between them.  
He catches a lock of her hair between his fingers and slides it straight. “We’re not so bad, Liz. We’re okay.”  
She feels close to tears, suddenly. 1975 stretches long and broken behind them, and she can remember too many disagreements and too many tense and sleepless nights.  
“Yeah,” she agrees. “We’re okay.” She kisses him, and she can’t help but feel she’s lying to herself.  
“It’s the weather,” Patrick says after a moment, as though sensing she’s not totally convinced. “It’s too fucking cold and miserable here.”  
She smiles and shakes her head. “Don't you remember summer? We nearly baked.”  
“That wasn’t summer,” he murmurs, kissing her neck. “One day I’ll take you to California. Beaches, cocktails and sun.”  
She laughs. “One day when we’re millionaires, right?”  
He laughs and kisses her. “Sure.”

 **1976**

  
Elizabeth watches from the steps of the front porch as Charlie and Sam try to build a snowman. Kristy stumbles through the patchy snow with them, hindered by her thick jacket. She tumbles and slips about in frustration, yelling nonsensical complaints at her brothers as they ignore her and continue to scrape snow together.  
January has been slight on snow so far – most of it has turned to slush and melted away into dirty puddles. The first proper fall doesn’t happen until late in the month, and even then it’s only a couple of inches. Sam and Charlie are determined to scrape it all together and build themselves a somewhat-muddy snow creature.  
“He won’t be very big,” Charlie says, sounding disappointed as he steps back and looks at the pathetic heap of snow in the middle of the lawn.  
“Why don’t you get a tub and go and take some snow from Mr. Spier’s yard?” Elizabeth suggests, keeping her hands wrapped around her coffee mug. “There’s a plastic crate on the back porch.”  
Charlie beams and races around the side of the house with Sam hot on his heels. Kristy shrieks and totters after them.  
When Richard pulls into his driveway ten minutes later, Charlie stops heaping snow into the tub and smiles breathlessly at him.  
“Hey, Mr. Spier. Can we take your snow?” he asks, looking around at the scrape marks across Richard’s lawn.  
“You may,” Richard answers with a smile. He spots Elizabeth on the porch and crosses next door.  
“Hi.” She moves over and he sits beside her and watches Charlie and Sam dragging the slushy snow back towards the heap in the middle of their lawn. “How was work?” she asks. She asks it automatically, almost as though he is Patrick, and she doesn’t feel embarrassed about it.  
“Fine,” Richard answers. “Though I admit I’ve been reading up on custodial law, lately, rather than the things I’m supposed to be reading.”  
Elizabeth smiles. “What’s the verdict?”  
“I think I’ll be all right,” he says quietly. He watches Kristy patting the side of the snowman under Sam’s instruction.  
Elizabeth watches him. “You will be all right,” she assures him.  
He nods and rubs his hands together slowly. “I just want Mary Anne home,” he says. “I’ve lost too much time with her already.”  
Elizabeth watches Kristy run across the lawn again, giggling as Charlie chases her.

  
“Did you see our snowman?” Sam asks drowsily.  
“I did,” Patrick answers, lifting him gently. “Come on, Charlie. Bed.”  
Charlie scowls and trudges upstairs, followed by his father. Sam is almost asleep on his shoulder.  
On the couch, Elizabeth breathes a quiet sigh and closes her eyes, listening to the faint noises upstairs as Patrick puts the boys to bed.  
She smiles, fully believing 1976 is going to be a better year.

  
In mid-February, Elizabeth goes next door with Kristy and announces to Richard they’ve been neighbours for a year.  
“Time flies,” Richard says, smiling. He kisses her cheek. “Congratulations on your Bradford Court anniversary.”  
Elizabeth laughs and hoists Kristy on her hip. “Thanks.”  
He smiles. “I’m about to call Bill and Verna.”  
“You are?”  
“I’m going to try and talk them out of this ridiculous argument.”  
“Good idea,” Elizabeth says.  
Kristy squirms in her mother’s arms and speaks crossly. “Claudee!” she demands.  
“Claudia’s not home,” Elizabeth says patiently. She smiles at Richard. “I’m sure Kristy will be pleased to have another playmate.”  
“I’m sure Mary Anne would like a playmate,” Richard says heavily. “I don’t think she’s interacting with many other children.” He pauses, and frowns. “That can’t be good, can it?”  
“I think kids need to be with other kids,” Elizabeth says. “Isn’t there anyone for her to play with?”  
“Maynard is tiny,” Richard says, shaking his head. “There aren’t many people there at all.”  
“Well, bring it up with Bill and Verna,” Elizabeth suggests. “Mary Anne needs friends.” She grins, and bounces Kristy gently. “And Kristy’s right here, waiting for her.”

  
It’s almost a week before Elizabeth is able to see Richard again and question him about the phone call.  
“How’d it go?” she asks anxiously.  
“As well as can be expected,” Richard answers, shaking his head slightly. He sighs. “I can’t seem to convince them Mary Anne will be all right with me. I’m starting to wonder if they can see something in me that –”  
“Don’t,” Elizabeth says sharply. “They’re trying to get you to doubt yourself.”  
Richard gives a little sigh. “Coffee?”  
Elizabeth shakes her head and they sit at the kitchen table. She waits expectantly.  
“They don’t like that I’ve stopped going to church,” Richard says after a moment.  
Elizabeth tilts her head. She can vaguely remember seeing Richard and Alma both heading to church every Sunday before Alma got ill.  
She can understand why Richard no longer has any desire to go. There are too many questions that don’t have satisfactory answers. She feels another pang of sorrow for him as she realises his faith can be added to the long list of things he has lost.  
“Church seems...” He stops and clears his throat, shaking his head. “Sometimes I feel as though I should be more devoted. That I should believe Alma is happy and looked after...” He pauses. “I pray,” he adds, “that she is kept safe and happy. But I can’t seem to do more than that, anymore.”  
“I know,” Elizabeth says, though deep down she’s not entirely sure she understands at all.  
Richard laces his fingers together thoughtfully. “I don’t wish to use God or religion as a ploy to get Mary Anne back,” he says, “But I’m not sure what I can say to Bill and Verna about this. I hadn’t expected them to bring this side of things up.”  
“I suppose they think it should be an important part of Mary Anne’s upbringing,” Elizabeth says uncomfortably. “I don’t know, Richard. Things might change, you know. Church may become a comfort again someday.”  
“Maybe,” he answers. He takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes tiredly. “Just when I think I have all the answers to prove I’ll be a good father,” he says, “Verna hits me with something I haven’t even considered.”  
“I don't think religion will have any bearing on your ability to be a good father,” Elizabeth says firmly. “Don’t give up, Richard, and don’t let Verna put you down anymore.”

  
March arrives with rain and wind, and it makes everyone in the Thomas household irritable.  
Elizabeth tries to remain patient with Patrick as he drones on in endless conversations about basketball mergers. Charlie and Sam seem to have an endless case of the sniffles, and Kristy starts swearing.  
Elizabeth has no idea where she’s picked it up from.  
“That’s a bad word,” she says sternly, shaking her head at Kristy.  
Kristy grins up at her from her high chair.  
Patrick trudges into the kitchen, looking sleepy. “Have we got any pop tarts?”  
“Why don’t you eat something healthier for breakfast?” Elizabeth asks. “Granola.”  
“Liz, I’m not even thirty,” Patrick says, giving her a look. “The day I start eating granola is the day I’ve given up on all my youth.” He grins. “Pop tarts?”  
She rolls her eyes and points to the cupboard.  
Patrick’s smile fades as he catches sight of Richard through the window. “What does he want?”  
“Why don’t you go and ask?” Elizabeth snaps. She pushes past him and greets Richard at the door. “Hi.” She squeezes past him onto the porch. “Patrick’s in a mood,” she explains. “Mind if we stay out here for a minute?”  
“No, of course not.” Richard is smiling, despite the rain, despite the wind. “I’m going to Iowa next week. I think I’ve convinced them.”  
Elizabeth’s mouth drops open. “You have? How?”  
“I don’t know.” Richard pauses for a moment and then gives a little laugh, and it seems entirely strange to see him so happy.  
Elizabeth throws her arms around him suddenly and hugs him tightly. “Oh, Richard, you have no idea how good it is to see you smile,” she says. She kisses his cheek and leaps back again, too self-conscious to linger. “Tell me,” she demands. “What happened?”  
He seems dazed. He keeps smiling. “I think Bill convinced Verna, in the end,” he says. “Things were becoming so bitter between the three of us. He agreed with me when I said Mary Anne needed children her own age. He agreed that I could look after her.” His smile falters for a slight minute. “I’ll have to prove I can do it,” he says after a moment. “Raising her alone is going to be so difficult, but if I –”  
“You can do it!” Elizabeth cries. “And I’ll be right next door to help out. I can sit for her during the day while you’re at work.”  
Richard’s expression changes back to happiness and relief. “Are you sure?”  
“Of course!” Elizabeth says. “Charlie’s at school for most of the day, and Sam goes to kindergarten. The girls can play together.”  
“Are you sure it won’t be too much?” Richard asks doubtfully.  
“ _Positive_ ,” Elizabeth says happily.  
“There’ll be times when you’re looking after four kids, Edie...”  
She waves his worries away and smiles. “Patrick will have to pick up some slack, that’s all. Besides, I’m sure Mary Anne will be perfect. No trouble.”  
Richard smiles, and he leans over and kisses her forehead. “Thank you,” he says.

  
March 14 is a cold, clear Sunday. In the afternoon, Patrick takes Charlie and Sam to an empty lot on Burnt Hill Road to play baseball in the wet grass.  
Elizabeth sits on the front porch and watches Kristy dig in the garden with a plastic spade.  
“Dirt,” Kristy explains happily, smearing mud on Elizabeth’s jeans.  
“So I see,” Elizabeth answers, pulling Kristy into her lap. She looks up as Richard’s car pulls into his driveway. She stands up hurriedly, clutching Kristy. “Come on,” she says excitedly. “Let’s go and visit Mary Anne.”  
It takes Elizabeth’s breath away at first. Mary Anne is the image of Alma. She gazes quietly back at Elizabeth and Kristy, her head against Richard’s shoulder.  
“How was the flight?” Elizabeth asks.  
“Fine.” Richard holds Mary Anne almost reverently. He kisses the top of her head and hugs her carefully, smoothing his hand over the soft curls on the back of her head. “She’s perfect.”  
“Well, let’s hope it rubs off on Kristy,” Elizabeth says with a rueful grin, looking down at her grimy daughter.  
Richard smiles, but he looks tired. Elizabeth suddenly realises that everything has met at a point. She’s spent so long worrying about him and so long hoping for this moment she hasn’t really considered what things will be like once Mary Anne arrives home.  
“Are you okay?” she asks Richard softly.  
“Yes.” Richard kisses the top of Mary Anne’s head again. “Just tired.”  
“We’ll let you both get some rest,” Elizabeth says, watching Mary Anne’s eyes close. “Do you need me to watch her, tomorrow?”  
“No, I have the day off. But if you could watch her on Tuesday...?”  
“Sure,” Elizabeth says. She smiles at him. “Happy?”  
He smiles back at her. “Yes,” he says. “I am.”


End file.
